Teaspoon Collectors, Bottletop Hoarders, Dishcloth Dames (LC-2)
by Harmonica Smile
Summary: Law's a freak and everybody knows it, but at least he's easy to buy for. Nothing pleases the dark haired pirate more than a commemorative tea-towel, the tackier the better. First chapter is fluff, Last chapter has some light smut, lots of tenderness. A/N for background. Rated M for chapter 2. Chapter 1 is safe. Marco x Law. Supportive relationship. Re-uploaded, and tidied.
1. 1 - Teaspoon, Bottletops, Dishcloths

**A/N:** This story follows on from and reflects back to the long fic, _Repossession._ At the end of that fic, Marco and Law are partners, and Marco has helped Law through some pretty horrific situations. Read the end notes for more information.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Teaspoon Collectors, Bottletop Hoarders, Dishcloth Dames**

* * *

He could always depend on Robin. Marco pled needing to prep the bar, walk the dogs – they were currently looking after Luffy and Zoro's mutt while they attended the new, improved, Reverie – and wishing to be surprised by whatever crime against humanity Law brought back to the house. Would there even be room? The bungalow was already a floor-to-ceiling shrine to tea-towels.

Robin had always got Law, though. True, she would prefer accompanying him to the morgue to look over and select abnormal body parts for the surgeon to dissect, analyse, and then preserve, like Auntie Mame's pickles. But beggars couldn't be choosers, even if Law's tea-towel hobby was as innocuous as your average plain-faced, boy-next-door, neighbourhood serial killer. The kind who spent far too much time chatting to his rotting mother, tucked into her wizened, cobwebbed and slowly rocking recliner, sequestered in the corner of his room. That's when not quietly terrorising the upright citizens in their weatherboard houses.

She sighed and slipped her arm into his as they left her house. He couldn't help his vibe. Personally, she and a great many of the pirate world who actually knew him found him as sexy as fuck, murderous vibe or no. Innocuous nerdy murderous vibe or no. The rest were ready to label anything he did, from growing vegetables to running his own practice, as creepy as fuck. They didn't know him.

He tipped his head to hers. Wondered if Lamie would be as delightfully twisted if she'd lived to see the day. Although of course, using that line of reasoning, Robin was his older sister, but he never was much of one for defining relationships between adults by age. There was only four years between them.

She held his hand, Kikoku was wrapped in his other. Chopper had been invited. Bepo, Penguin and Shachi too, but they all staved off, citing the important and crucial work they did at Law's clinics. Which they did. Assault centres needed staff to remain operational, without a doubt. But it wasn't as if they couldn't have a day off.

"Boss, I love being featured on them." Shachi puffed out his currently covered chest. His last modelling assignment for the tea-towels had shown him baring his abs. "But I'm not joining you."

The designs featuring Penguin and Shachi were usually well below Chopper's in popularity, and no-one could draw in the coin like Bepo, but that bare-chested one walked out of his clinic. Literally. Or literally in the grip of thieving hands. Law's practice was in the seedier part of town, which harboured its fair share of manhandlers, panhandlers, conmen and spivs, pickpockets, burglars, shoplifters and kin. It was only that Law treated so many, no questions asked, and at a discounted price if they really couldn't pay, that the clinic itself _hadn't_ been broken into a thousand times over.

Stealing the commemorative towels on sale to support the crisis centres Law ran was low though. He'd trained Mercury – rescue dog number three – to growl when someone didn't seem to have a hand on their wallet as well as on Shachi's glistening one hundred thread count body. The receptionist had a pretty good drop tackle on her, and once they figured the Heart pirate's pecs were the hit of the season, they guarded the dish cloths ferociously, and made sure correct recompense was offered for their removal. It all went toward the clinics of course.

And they tried to tell him it was an old biddy's hobby with no hint of excitement.

In his books, a day spent just with Robin was a day more than well spent. The others didn't know what they were missing. The dark haired woman adored the Heart captain, so it was no hardship on her part either to indulge him in whatever esoteric hobby he was pursuing at the time. She ran her fingers across the stubby nails of his hand, the hardened keratin that had never properly grown back from past torture. Oh god, just to have him near and alive, and also happy, so happy, was nectar to the Ohara survivor. She'd found her own peace many years before life finally fell into sync with Law's own wants and desires.

After the Kid attack, some years ago now, she and Chopper had both visited, and Law came to the island on occasion. They toured some of the galleries as they often did. The tall man was polite and courteous as ever, as sardonic, but his wicked gleam and his confidence were dulled for a while. Law's friends weren't sure they'd get him back.

He stopped flirting, and even when he'd been little more than stripped back skin and raw nerves on the Sunny after his escape from the marines, he'd had room and time for a special smile and understanding for her. He didn't flirt with everyone. He did so with those he loved. Those he loved and trusted. It seemed a rare thing, but once you had it, you had it, and you never wanted to lose it. Maybe banter was the better word. It depended on the Strawhat.

In the aftermath of the attack, that smile disappeared. He constrained himself. Acting with the propriety of a Victorian gentleman, with the self-recrimination of a flagellant.

She was glad when his aloofness proved temporary. The two got on so well maybe because they were securely ensconced with their own sexual preferences and in Law's case, his own loved one. Robin had a series of relationships. They both knew that if Law were straight he'd be with her. The fact he wasn't, meant they could be open and giving without fearing it was leading somewhere else. She held no illusions of being together, nor harboured any regrets that they weren't.

It was Marco's idea, not Law's, to get the rescue dogs, but what a good move it had been. Law knew what he had to do to get through trauma and to not let it control his life, but it took huge effort. He had his practice, Marco, and good friends, and all that helped enormously. Shipping Kid off to Ivankov and eventually opening the clinics also enriched his life, and lent it a stability that he hadn't felt before. It took some time for him and Zoro to get over and beyond what they'd both been through, but they did.

It was the dog that really pulled him through, as tired of a concept as it was, and Zoro, though Robin knew less of that. They'd all been so proud of Law leading up to the attack. He was their favourite errant child anyway, but his guard had dropped with the relatively trouble-free years after the new world stabilised, and with the unstinting love and support of Marco. They'd all enjoyed seeing him regain his confidence, loved the way he opened up to them after his captivity with Doflamingo and the assaults he'd endured when imprisoned by the marines had pared his self-esteem to the bone. Regaining his psychological foothold had taken years. Then Kid. Law, though initially seemingly able to tumble with the worst of the assault and still rise for air, shut down a month or so after.

He still needed to see his friends, and be with them, but the gentle teasing was gone, and his affection was reserved only for Marco, and even then, he was hesitant about expressing it in public. That was the traumatised Law they knew when they'd rescued him from the marine internment, the hidden smile aside. It was painful to see him regress. To deny himself and those around him touch, and the reassurance that came with it, especially because Law could communicate a thousand words in the sweep of a hand.

Now, though, he leaned into Robin, and moved a lock of her hair behind her ear, and she was so glad to have him back.

Law did all he could to gain the trust of the rescue dogs. He crouched on the floor at their level. His height was intimidating. Offering his hand to be sniffed, he'd scratch them behind the ears, if they let him. He walked them in the park, and didn't mind when they pressed into his legs, growling under their breath, when another person approached.

As they grew more secure, so did Law. As they grew braver, they demanded affection and didn't shy from slobbering over the Heart Captain to express their own. And so his hand, when chatting across a cup of tea, maybe rested on Robin's arm and admired her new ring. She remembered the day he once again let her kiss him goodbye without ducking out of the way. Any conditioned misguided guilt he felt that his actions had caused Kid's attack fading.

A kiss to her cheek, or lips even, was not disloyalty to Marco, and the Phoenix had never implied as such. Kid's words were a constant as if he were still holding him down, whispering what a deserving and willing slut he was. That his promiscuity around Luffy and Smoker, in front of Zoro, Tashigi, and worst of all, Marco, had brought this all on himself. Of course he'd been anything but. Tactile and giving yes, but not wanton. And even if he was, it didn't justify Kid's assault anywhere, but especially not on his home turf. Where he had felt safe.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

They knew him. The teaspoon collectors, the bottletop hoarders, the dishcloth dames - the tea-towel grannies, as Marco termed them. Robin loved how he was at home, or not at home, with them all, as equally awkward and focused. Letting that charm shine through when he had the urge.

"Trafalgar, you came." An older lady with short spiked hair, salt and pepper, greeted the two dark-haired pirates as they dropped far more than the recommended Beri donation into the admission box. Trinity.

"Of course."

Law carried his sword with him when he was away from home. Robin wondered if it got heavy. It was almost an extra appendage for him when they first knew him, but he'd been more relaxed with island living for a while. After the attack it again rarely left his side.

"Trafalgar?" Robin teased.

"It has a certain gravitas, wouldn't you say?" Law said over his shoulder to the archeologist.

The older woman tapped the top of the table in front of her, flashy rings taking up most of her hand.

"We put some aside for you, Love."

Law's face perked up. To the side of Trinity were three rolled up cloths. She unfurled the first and it had all the tassels and intricate patterns of a Turkish rug.

It's not linen," Law said, feeling the cloth. It obviously wasn't linen.

"No, silk, cotton, wool and some camel hair woven into this beauty."

Robin inhaled at the design, dipping in, out, over and within itself. Rose bled into carmine, darkened with mahogany, lit with vermillion and traces of gold thread. Lush. It reminded her of Alabasta.

"What's the story?" Law murmured.

"Both of these are some kind of song line."

Law wondered about the third. "They were sung into being?"

Trinity nodded, and unfurled the second towel.

Law admired the ochres, the white motifs and paths indicating the wandering and meandering of a dreaming.

"Some of the desert women did this one. Marg has just come back from a world trip, and she kept an eye out for things you'd like, and the rest of us of course."

Law spied a paw print, so like Bepo's in the corner. He ran a hand over it.

"She told them some of your story. How you survived genocide."

Law and Robin both looked up sharply. Had either of them ever divulged that information?

"Your crew, hon. They buy all your presents from us."

Law coloured slightly. Of course. He was still defensive though. There was a reason there were very few survivors of genocide. Those remaining learnt to keep tight-lipped about their status, especially when the World Government had been the instigator of most atrocities and did not look kindly on those who bore witness.

"Marg understands, Law. There's a reason she has contact with the communities."

The tall man nodded.

"They're protective of their culture, as you'd appreciate."

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

"What's the last one?" Robin asked.

"Marco commissioned this."

Two dark heads turned her way again. Though there was a fair smattering of grey in Law's.

"Marco?"

"Does he even know where your shop is?"

Trinity tcched. "Do the gifts you receive ever vary?"

Law smiled quietly. No. He was easy to buy for.

Trinity's lip curled a little in distaste, but it was lost on Law who eagerly reached for the last tea-towel. The linen quality was good, the best, Irish, crisp and white. The centre was a (scanned) photo of Misery, with Mercury, the dog still with them, gazing at some spirit cloud to the side, and Mephistopheles, the poor sick dog, not cat, that had only been with them for six months before she passed, actually seeming to look at the camera and straight at them. What uncoordinated positioning. What a bunch of clowns. Like some pastiche of circus dog rejects. The composition was hopeless.

"Thank god he didn't decide to put this on a t-shirt or sweater. Can you imagine having to wear it?" Law said with a shudder, a delighted grin on his face. Small dog biscuit shapes were scattered throughout the design, and vomit-inducing pink hearts that Cora would have died for. He would have had to wear it at least once, for Marco.

The three dogs and mishmash of designs were all superimposed on a greyed-out kennel.

"I'm sorry, Law. He insisted. The more we told him the colours clashed, the rendition had no clarity due to being taken from low res photos, and that none of it would go with the thread count, the happier he seemed and he agreed with our observations as if they were recommendations."

Trinity shook her head. She wasn't sure that the tea-towel association wanted to put their name to this atrocity, but Law and those around him were some of their best customers. They certainly paid well for designs that would have burnt the eyes of a hobby-Tex enthusiast. From what she understood, the strange tattooed man in front of her reacted to all of them with glee.

"That sure is ugly as fuck," Robin breathed over his shoulder.

Law stroked the photo of Misery. "She never had any taste either, but she didn't care." She'd loved him fiercely. Growling if Marco went to fill her bowl instead of Law, except when it was prudent. There were times that the doctor just wasn't around.

The world had pretty much rejected her for her brokenness.

"It's perfect." He said to Trinity. "I'll take it."

"That blond cutie of yours has already paid for it, doll. You've got no choice."

"You guys are a couple of freaks," Robin said, but her lips curved at the light in Law's eye, his obvious infatuation with that hideous dishcloth, purely because it was hideous. And featured Misery. And Marco had commissioned and paid for it.

"Thank you," Law murmured, shot her a quick look, eyes high and frivolous. A word one didn't associate with Law. Except when it came to tea-towels. And even then, he took his 1950s, conservative-housewife interest as seriously as any pop vulture with a penchant for getting married in an Elvis chapel. It took some dedication. She knew nothing could shake the phoenix and the heart. She was pleased they'd found each other. Let the other in.

"You'll take these too?" the dark-haired woman asked about the almost sacred artefacts with the Turkish and Dreaming designs.

"Of course. They're beautiful," he said, "Though nothing could best Misery on a good day." Or his Marco, he thought, passing his Beri to Trinity as she wrapped all three cloths.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

He found a blue cotton weave scarf for Marco. A light material of the kind he liked to wear, for show, for sweat. It graduated in colour from azure to the deepest indigo, like his Phoenix glow. He didn't need to consult Robin, and so he didn't, but she was right nearby as he picked it out and brought it to Trinity, along with the few lighthouses, submarines and scalpel design . . . tea-towels he'd also chosen.

"Love, are you sure you haven't made a mistake?" The grey-haired woman unfurled the blue scarf and admired its luminescent beauty. It outshone the other dross he'd selected by leagues.

"Oh?" Law looked a little confused, though he remained relaxed and easy.

"It's just . . .," she gulped. Law was really stylish in his . . . in front of her, that never changed, and Robin was the epitome of class. "This is gorgeous, Trafalgar, it's not your usual style. Is it maybe a little too chic for your home?"

Robin chuckled lightly and Law didn't mind. He really didn't. It was only with the tea-towels he went overboard. And maybe the Polar Tang.

"You don't think it'll suit Marco?"

"Only too well. But you don't seem to be interested in . . ."

"Good taste?" Robin interjected. Better that it came from her.

Law smirked at Robin and sat on the table near Trinity - a no-no, but she didn't mind. His legs stretched to the floor, he crossed them at the ankles, and Kikoku rested beside him. He pulled a heart shaped locket from around his neck. Again, it wasn't a travesty, but an anomaly. There was some damn fine craftsmanship that had gone into the design etched into the silver. He wore it under his clothes usually against his chest. And he didn't always wear it. It depended on how he was feeling on any given day. The heart was on a long chain which he pulled over his head.

He opened the locket and ran the edge of a finger over the rim holding the picture of Cora. Opposite was a much smaller rendition of his family.

"This man loved me," Law said, "That meant everything to me, and was all I had at one stage of my life. He was the first to let me know I wasn't a monster, after the fall of Flevance – the genocide you mentioned – when I was a kid. His care convinced me that he might be right. I had an illness, and he helped me survive it, but he paid with his life."

He passed it to Trinity. She looked down and frowned. What in hell's name was the man in the picture wearing?

"In very dark times the memory of that smile was a salve."

Robin leaned in. Trinity looked at a man, his face wreathed with a harebrained grin, wearing a Sherpa-like cap, or maybe a night cap, heavily made up with garish face paint reminiscent of Commedia dell'Arte, and wearing a shirt covered with hearts. His pose was very similar to the last visual memory Law had of him, the man riddled with bullets and beaten by Vergo, but with a mouthful of teeth for him as he told tiny, vulnerable, just-reprieved-from-dying, thirteen-year-old Law he loved him.

Maybe it was a surveillance pic, or one Sengoku had taken of his adopted son before he went undercover, in his undercover outfit. Law wondered how undercover it was though. Cora had not removed any of that make-up, even when he could, away from Doflamingo's prying eyes, as they camped out in the snow on the mountain. Then again, Joker's eyes had been freaking everywhere.

"He died for me," Law said, matter of fact, ignoring the guilt the Don Quixote Family had drilled into him, that Sengoku had levelled against him, that it was natural to feel. "And if one way I can honour him is to be as tasteless as possible, then so be it."

"Except Law's actually too dapper to pull that off." Robin wandered over and leant against the desk next to him.

"Dapper?" Law looked at her puzzled, picturing X-Drake, or perhaps Bege. "It's not like I try," he huffed.

"And those tattoos drew themselves."

She felt him stiffen slightly, thinking about the ones he had no say in.

"Almost."

The Strawhat pirate turned her head toward Trinity.

"So, you know, if you're a clothes horse, looking good in whatever you wear, you've got to express your vulgarity in other ways."

"Tea-towels," Trinity breathed. She and the other women who ran the NPO had been frightened of the lanky man at first, and sometimes still were, or some of them were. He'd come in with the Admiral Smoker once and, though Law was more charming than the older man, those who were wary of his background lost a little of their distrust once that friendship was known.

"I like them," Law said simply, standing up from the table, and taking back his locket from Trinity's outstretched hand. "What's wrong with that?" He slipped the chain back over his neck, and tucked the pendant under his shirt.

"It's just that your judgment can be appalling and contradicts everything about the way you dress and hold yourself." The older woman had not wrapped up the scalpel design tea-towel yet.

"Heart tattoos, letter tattoos, circular tattoos, smiley face tattoos," Robin murmured.

"They all hold together," Law said.

"They do, but maybe only on you. Snow Leopard print hat, yellow and blue hoodies, spotted jeans."

"It's a consistent colour scheme."

"You've got quite the eye, Law," Trinity said, again holding up Marco's scarf.

"Some folk are just born with it. But no," he anticipated her next question, "It doesn't extend to tea-towels."

That would defeat the purpose.

* * *

 **End Notes** : Luffy is now the Pirate King and Zoro is his faithful partner. Law and Luffy were a couple for two years. All characters live in a kind of One Piece AU on a series of islands a ferry ride away from one another. The World Government is a lot less corrupt than it used to be. I hope these stories can stand alone without knowledge of the prior fic. I think they can. Sorry for the confusion if they cannot.

In this AU, Law is in his thirties.

 **Thank you** for reading. Thank you so much for past readers.

I have taken down thirteen chapters of this fic, leaving this as a two-chapter piece, including the first and last chapters. If you are interested in the other chapters, they can be found on AO3 under Harmonica_Smile, but some chapters have an E rating.

* * *

 **Note: Dec 8, 2018** : The Vivre Cards have come out with Marco's height, and he's got 12cm on Law. When I started writing these two, a post on Oro Jackson had Marco at about 184 cm, which I prefer. I initially wrote Marco taller, and readjusted everything. Now, it seems I need to go the other way! BUT, I'll just leave author notes instead. It's always an AU anyway.


	2. 2 - Blue Scarf

**Chapter 2 - Blue Scarf**

* * *

The new tea-towel had made its way to their bedroom, god forbid. Law smirked as he tossed vegetables in the pan. He'd see how long it stayed there, pinned to the wall opposite their bed. Misery had always cried desperately when they'd locked her out of the room during sex, dear sweet dog. Well, she'd get an eyeful now, if they could handle having that travesty looking over them. Then again, her eyes were already averted to the side of the camera. He'd leave it as a surprise for Marco.

The back door slammed and Phoenix came in from walking Mercury, and Pekopeko, Luffy's dog. Thankfully the dog was more like Zoro and less like the pirate king, and it curled up in a corner after tussling with Mercury for the water bowl, spilling half of it over the floor. Law tchhed – maybe the dog had a touch of Strawhat to it after all – and returned to his cooking. One of them would clean it later.

After looping the leashes on the back handle of the side door, Marco stood behind Law, placed his hands on the tattooed man's hips, nuzzled his neck, and breathed in deeply the medicinal scent the doctor always had about him, the smell of the garden, the sweat and dirt of the day, cooking aromas, and some fusty old grandma odour. Had one of the tea-towel ladies hugged him? They were fond of him. And terrified. Law softly pressed his head back against the blond.

"Hands full."

"I know." His lips grazed the side of Law's face, the nape of his neck. He dropped his embrace and went to the fridge. Poured two glasses of wine.

"Did you have fun? How's Robin?" He put Law's glass on the counter nearest him.

"She's fine. Yeah, it was fun." Law reduced the heat. "I got you something." He glanced at him, before turning back to the stove.

"Oh?" Marco wondered about the gift that should have been waiting for Law at the convention. Maybe it hadn't been ready.

"On the main counter, in the paper bag." The Heart pirate turned the heat off and took the vegetables from the hotplate, served them in equal portions into two bowls. He carried them to the table. Just as well Luffy wasn't joining them. He wasn't sure if the rubber man even knew what tofu and cashews were, apart from a salted beer snack, sans the beer. And the tofu. He returned for his wine, and stood with his back to the sink as Marco adjusted the blue scarf around his neck.

"Mhm, you look quite dashing," Law drawled.

"For a change?"

"Even more than usual."

He put his wine behind him, walked to Marco, tugged on the ends of the scarf, gently, and kissed him on the lips. Marco responded.

"It suits you."

"It _is_ my colour."

"It's a shame we sometimes don't have cooler weather," Law sighed, stepping back, and wrapping it around Marco's graceful neck a few times and loosening it so it was scooped into a cowl, one of the tasselled ends spilling onto his front.

"Then you'd see a whole lot less of me, yoi."

"And I wouldn't want that."

Marco was getting on, but with his devil's fruit, who ever knew how old he truly was? He'd wear a shirt sometimes and other days he may as well not have. This was one of those days. Law understood how much loyalty the Whitebeards had to Oyaji and to the tattoo that expressed that. He placed a hand flat on the Phoenix's compact stomach and another hand slipped under the open jacket. Law spanned his fingers into the small of Marco's back.

He drew the other man to him, they almost matched, height for height and had similar builds. One of Law's long legs rested between Marco's, applying faint pressure.

"Dinner's getting cold," he whispered into his lover's ear. Kissed him lightly on the cheekbone. Turned and grabbed his wine, and headed to the table.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

It took Marco some time to notice. Law was late to bed of course. It was Marco's night off. Sarah did a great job, and they didn't have to worry about her.

Law finally crawled onto the bed shortly after midnight, after his shower, the side lamp on until they settled. Marco sat up, finishing a trashy paperback. Law lay on his back.

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with "M."

Marco looked down at him. What was he up to now? Law rolled over. He folded his elbows and placed them on Marco's lap, and rested his head on top of them. The blond slanted his book, and absentmindedly ran his hand in Law's mildly damp hair, streaked through with grey. Not that you'd know from the way he was acting right now. His eyes snapped shut, and he almost purred in ecstasy.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm right next to you. You don't have to play games to get my attention."

"No, not Marco. M, M & M," Law murmured, pushing against Marco's palm.

"The Trinity of Ems?"

"Mmm."

"Am I one of them?"

"Unh-uh." Law's hair shook under Marco's fingers.

"It can only mean one thing, then." The older man freed his hand from the Heart pirate's black locks, and shifted his legs up, shaking them a little to get Law to move off them. Grumbling that he could have given fair warning, he rolled to the side, his jagged back tattoo - the disrupted Jolly Roger - in Marco's sight.

They really should get Law's back fixed, but Marco had got so used to seeing it now that the scarring barely registered. He put his book facedown on the side table, stepped out of the bed and walked over to the wall where his partner had hung the tea-towel that Marco had commissioned. His gift. Law, now sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, stared at him. One arm loosely behind his head.

"What in all that is good and holy is this abomination?"

Marco scratched at the back of his head, and snorted looking at the jangled and jumbled dogs and designs printed onto the tea-towel. Just how he wanted it. The tacky hearts, the cheesy dog biscuits, the animals that had no clue that they were the rejects of the shelter. The un-cute animals that no-one but Law would select. The white monster of Flevance.

"Shush now, you'll hurt her feelings," Law said, crawling to the end of the bed and looking toward Mercury.

Marco looked down at the dog who wagged her tail slowly under his gaze. Then back at Law, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes alit. Three folds crossed his stomach as he relaxed in his drawstrings. The Phoenix was glad he got to see the Heart shirtless. Said man rose from the mattress and padded over.

"What in tarnation" Marco asked, turning to Law in mock indignation when he felt him behind him, "Is this?"

"Trinity almost had an apoplexy." He put his arms around Marco's waist, torso against torso, groin against arse, as he pushed into him. "It's perfect, is what it is," he whispered into Marco's ear, his chin on his shoulder. He ran his hands up Marco's chest, from behind, kissed into his neck.

"The things I have to do to get you into bed," Marco said, putting a hand behind him, touching the back of Law's head.

Law laughed. "They're appreciated." He nibbled on Marco's ear. "I hope you've had a shower."

Ah, Marco was so used to that voice, and it was just the way the doctor spoke, gravelly, low and concise, scaring the fuck out of half of his new patients, and the newer dishcloth dames – or was it them who scared Law? Whatever it was, it still turned the Phoenix on.

"Cheek. I showered as soon as I saw we were going to have an audience tonight." He dropped his arm, turned around, his head bowed slightly, but close to Law's. His hands now on the lean, heavily-tattooed body, resting on its hips. "It's _you_ who kept me waiting."

"You don't mind then?" Law looked down at the blond. He kissed the points he knew sometimes fired up Marco's skin, literally. A pause in Marco's breathing indicated he'd hit the spot. He had to be careful though. He'd singed his eyebrows once. "You know how much they hate to be excluded."

Marco manoeuvred Law so that he was the one pushed up against the wall, right next to the tea-towel. The Heart captain lifted his arms up and folded them in half, made fists and rested them behind his own neck, both opening his body up and giving him some support. Marco dove in, kisses along his jaw line and the dip of his neck, across his shoulders, taking in Law's scent - sweat, forming already despite having just washed. Law's underarm hair was blacker than that on the top of his head. His hand went for Law's junk.

Law brought his arms down and his fingers held either side of Marco's face, directing it upwards, getting him to look at him. "Mercury."

The blond stared up at him with annoyed, hooded, eyes, but he pulled back, a hand still pressing against Law. Keep talking, he thought. The dark-haired man's voice was a pool of warmth and promise.

"Go to bed," Law said thickly. "I'll join you soon. _I_ should be the one thanking _you_ for this monstrosity." And as one hand brought Marco's chin near, and brought his lips to his own in order to drive his point home, his other hand tapped the wall next to him to indicate the tea-towel.

"It's not going to stay there forever, is it?" Marco breathed as they came out of the kiss.

Law smirked and ducked away from the embrace. He sent Mercury outside into the hallway, closing the door on her. She was far less needy than Misery, probably because she hadn't experienced long periods of separation from either one of them. He and Marco had their ups and downs after Kid, but they came through. Misery probably bore the brunt of it.

Mercury was protective, but Misery had taken her defence of them, and in particular Law, as her mission in life. She was a delight, that dog, but she had been a tad overprotective. She'd start a low lying snarl if either Law or Marco was a little too vocal in bed, and she thought one of them was harming the other. Particularly as Law was usually so quiet. Marco had to steer away from her bared teeth on more than one occasion. Misery's strategy was kill the mood or be killed. But her favourite human couldn't hold it against her.

He smiled as he remembered dream-Misery piercing dream-Doflamingo and eating up shrunken Kid when he was undergoing image rehearsal therapy, and in doing so banishing them from that nightmare and their bedroom. That had been such a victory. The demons inside had been caused by the devils outside, but as he aged, it often seemed the inner tormenters wielded the greater power. To be able to defeat them, one dream at a time, was the sweetest relief. Misery might not have ever known she was pivotal in the pink bastard's defeat, but Law gave her credit. He was good at that.

He'd learned some lessons across the years from the three dogs they'd taken care of, though, and made sure that Marco's crumpled old t-shirt went with Mercury. It gave Marco some satisfaction that their third dog decided to sleep on one of his items of clothing rather than Law's. Law just thought it meant one less thing for him to wash, but admitted that it was touching.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

"You have appalling taste, Law," Marco teased from the bed, as the younger man leant over him, landing on top of him in a frog's crouch, his calves either side of the blond's thighs. He ran his hands along the Whitebeard tattoo, following with succulent kisses, nips and a light grazing of the teeth along those articulated muscles, that fantastic firebird skin. Law's touch always alternated between tender and electrifying, sometimes terrifying.

The Heart captain's fingers were rough and calloused, a surprise considering he was a doctor. But he worked hard at the bar, gardened for his medical supplies, and sparred with Zoro on a fairly regular basis. He'd sailed the seas too, or submerged under them. It was to be expected. He wasn't shy of hard work. Speaking of Kikoku, where was that shadowy spirit? Marco liked to keep her in sight.

The contrast of the stunted nails on one of Law's hands crossing his body, and then the more complete set on the other - the ones Kizaru had let alone - smoothly following, was like sandpaper and unguent, aggravating, biting, hypnotic, cool. The flitting and fleeting tag-team of sensations Law evoked drew his mind completely away from the nodachi.

"I have appalling taste?" Law mused, easing Marco's boxers down. The older man helped him out. Law then kicked his own drawstrings off and resumed his close inspection of the peaks and valleys of the Phoenix's body.

"I know." He kneaded into the muscles around Marco's hips and lingered near his navel, before breathing into the fine line of black hairs - rather than blond - that led to his cock and balls. "And for that you should be grateful," he murmured.

Marco laughed and – as much as he was enjoying the touch – pulled Law up so they were face to face.

"I should be grateful? You cheeky runt."

Law, also laughing, leant towards him. "I'm the runt?" He liked to hold his few centimetres in height over the mighty first division commander. He pulled at his lover's lower lip lightly with his teeth, inserted his tongue in tentative foray. And then pulled out in that fucking infuriating way he had. He sat back on his heels, his naked body lightly touching Marco's bare skin. He bent forward again, hands either side of Marco's head, lips curved in delight, eyes vibrant, as he took the blond's mouth – he liked that tea-towel _so_ much. Sex was going well if it was like this.

Law's lips were insistent but not rough on Marco's own. Marco returned the kiss, Law pulled away. Something more welcoming than a smirk on his face as before. The Phoenix loved seeing him like this. Confident, joyful, giving what he wanted to give, receiving what he wanted to receive.

The blond reached up to the back of Law's neck and pulled him closer again, their lips together, and Marco's tongue explored the fresh, clean, promising cavities of Law's mouth. Thank god for mouthwash. The dark-haired man let Marco swipe his own tongue – over the porous surface, teasing the frenulum, along the smoother sides – an occasional twist or lick given in response - enjoying the motions, the textures, the feelings buzzing through either man. Give and take.

They withdrew and, because Law was silent during sex, Marco savoured the shared intake of breath - the sound as they both drew in air. Passion articulated. The blond's easy grin said it all for Law. The Heart sat on Marco's body, fingers twisted in his hair. He kissed along his jawline to his ear, his tongue and mouth, his breath and intention leaving a trail, until he reached the Phoenix's ear and took the lobe between his teeth. He nibbled the soft flesh, flicking his tongue behind the helix, teasing the joint between it and the skull. Working his way upwards, he traced and shadowed the shell and spirals of the ear. Marco moaned, pliable, his hand against Law's chest. The doctor's fingers pushed into his scalp. Both men felt the swell of arousal, their own and in the body of the other.

Law pulled away. Sitting up once more. "You didn't shave, Phoenix." That contented purr on his lips.

"It's not manly, Nana. I know you love my stubble." Marco grabbed Law's hips and tipped the two of them over, the brunet now flat against the mattress, Marco above him. Law's eyes flashed with pleasure and challenge. The Whitebeard's fingers ran along Law's cheeks, and he had indeed shaved. He needed to do so less than Marco, but he always did. The Phoenix softly rubbed his cheek like a Mink against his partner's face, ensuring some kind of scrape of three o'clock shadow against the currently smooth skin. Conditioned by Bepo perhaps, Law returned the action with an animalistic instinct that melted Marco's heart. Like a bear cub. He knew that it was born of no stage of captivity or service. He made a note, as he always did, to thank Bepo and Penguin for protecting their captain across the years. Especially when he was a sixteen-year-old fleeing Doflamingo.

Marco scratched across the permanent graze on Law's cheek, the scar. A wave of cellular reaction washed over the younger man. Sometimes it was fine, sometimes the Heart invited exploration of the scar, sometimes they had to pause. "Nana," Marco whispered. He tensed as the dark-haired man held his head tightly to him for a second. Black eyes narrowing briefly, Marco felt the strength of the grip, and a tautness to Law's body separate from the desire flushing through it. A different sensation, different chemicals altogether.

The Phoenix stayed close, his breath dancing on Law's skin, and he waited for Law's eyes to open, or for the touch of pain to wash away from his features. They had their techniques. Marco knew Law was listening for his breath. Was counting it, and matching his own breath to it. Feeling for Marco's heartbeat, his pulse - even though both were palpitating, it was welcome, it was wanted. He felt Law's hand against his heart, and he knew it was for grounding, not for extraction.

"Arsehole." Law finally spoke, his voice deep with relief and affection. He put his hand at the back of Marco's neck now, and he moved his chin while Marco's face was close so that the blond felt the tickle of his goatee against his own. Both men breathed regularly again, entwined, and the Phoenix tenderly kissed Law's mouth. The younger man still had his eyes closed. He exhaled into Marco's mouth, and then responded with gentle bites to the inner lip, and opened his own mouth wider so the Phoenix could explore in ways that had nothing to do with the graze on his face, nothing to do with the marine monsters who gave it to him.

"Just what were you planning to do tonight you pirate scoundrel?" Marco asked after pulling away, and then pushing Law down. Law grabbed at Marco's head, raising himself from the bed to do so, placing a kiss on his lips, before sinking back into the mattress, wanting to draw the man into his enjoyment and safety. To show his gratitude.

Marco's fingers trailed down Law's front, lips following. The black ink felt minimally different, slightly raised from the skin around it, but Law only ever knew Marco was working on his tattoos due to the direction his touches took.

"I was intent on admiring the crown jewel of my collection." Law's voice a low growl.

Marco smiled against Law's skin, feeling the heat of his body, the rise of his flesh, a little rankled about being considered something owned, but knowing Law's background, he knew he was kidding. Autonomy was key between them.

"Does it involve polishing?" Marco had drawn himself up the bed, and was near the curve of Law's neck again now, his body hunched above Law's own, and no, they still didn't mark, but small grazes of teeth across the skin hardly qualified.

Law's grin broadened. Marco made short work of his nipples now, his hand occasionally brushing over his dick, cupping his balls. The younger man loosely wrapped a leg over the Phoenix's body, his heel pushing into his lower back, pressing down to bring them closer. To give Marco some friction, some pressure.

"Lick, spit and polish, all guaranteed." Law's eyes slit open. So much potential fun contained in the grey.

"And grind?"

Oh God, that was the tongue. Law inhaled sharply.

"And grind. . ." His voice shook. He coughed. "Definitely grind."

Just as well Misery had her eyes averted, Law thought, staring at the tea towel where only poor, sick, Mephistopheles looked at the camera. She'd been so ill, she probably wouldn't even be able to see this far in the same way that Marco's bobbing blond head and broad shoulders were somewhere in Law's vision, but the physical sensation was really the only thing blowing and occupying his mind at that moment.

"Good to hear," Marco said, after pulling off for a second, "Though I want more than spit if we're grinding." He loved seeing Law's rapt face, eyes closed, arm crooked above his head, the wide curve of his enticing lips following Marco's words. Listening, but unable to respond. Lube was always somewhere nearby. They'd never finish if Law got into one of his giggling fits though. So he felt a jolt of satisfaction as Law's back arched when he ducked back down, and took more of him into his mouth.

Law would return the favour in a short while, and for now let Marco know how much he loved the consideration, being in the bed, the house, the life of the other, by reaching a hand down and gripping the blond's hair in the way he liked, his fingers pressing into his scalp, and by pushing down with just a little more force his foot on the blond's back. Marco could tell by how relaxed yet aroused Law was that he was enjoying it. Still.

He pulled off again. Law groaned. "Okay?" Marco asked, placed a hand on Law's quivering abdomen, the other by his groin, keeping warmth, potential alive by holding it there. Law put his tattooed hand over Marco's and gave it a squeeze. His face was blissed out. He wouldn't be okay if the Phoenix didn't finish though.

"Fuck yeah."

Embracing vulgarity had its benefits after all.

* * *

 **And you'll just have to imagine the rest!** Many thanks for reading.

Law undertook Imagery Rehearsal Therapy and techniques in earlier deleted chapters to overcome his crippling nightmares.

If you are interested in the original 15 chapter story, it is on AO3, same title (Teaspoon Collectors, etc.). The author name to search for is Harmonica_Smile. Please take note of the warnings and rating if you choose to read.

* * *

 **Note: Dec 8, 2018** : The Vivre Cards have come out with Marco's height, and he's got 12cm on Law. When I started writing these two, a post on Oro Jackson had Marco at about 184 cm, which I prefer. I initially wrote Marco taller, and readjusted everything. Now, it seems I need to go the other way! BUT, I'll just leave author notes instead. It's always an AU anyway.


End file.
